


sky falling down

by antarcticas



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Betrothal Necklace (Avatar), Book 1: Water (Avatar), F/M, Hallucinations, Implied Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Zutara, we see you boy, zuko really wore katara's necklace on his wrist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antarcticas/pseuds/antarcticas
Summary: He would deny it but he could picture it in his mind vividly; the smoothness of the fabric, worn with age, and the water symbol inscribed into a pendant. All of its characteristics were sealed into shades of blue that contrasted his skin and armor.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	sky falling down

"Prince Zuko," Iroh whispered quietly, "you should go to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Zuko snarked back, leaning up against the ship's railings. The water below the two of them was a terrible kind of inky, black and reflective of the sky above; the Fire Nation's stars tended to be clouded out by the area's production. Here, someone in the middle of the oceans, the world was far too clear. Some part of him thought that if he stared hard enough out into the universe he might be able to see the spirits. 

He could spend an entire night searching for something nonexistent. He has—what else would one call his sleepless years searching for the legend of the Avatar? 

He had not tired during those long nights, and he would not tire now. Not now, with his goal so clearly in sight—his only holdback to success being the child himself and his novice companions. They are no match for him. He knows the end of this battle is in sight. 

Soon he would have the Avatar, and victory, and home.

Iroh sighed at the stiff figure on the deck and stepped forward, a hand reaching out to rest on his nephew's neck. Zuko froze further, his muscles tensing uncharacteristically until his uncle let him go with a yawn of his own. "You will still have to practice in the morning."

"I will."

"You are going to practice on a night of no sleep?" Iroh asked doubtfully, and Zuko wanted to laugh. This would not be the first time. Instead, he swiveled his head slightly and attempted to smile at Iroh, his fingers twitching at his wrists. 

"Don't worry about me, Uncle."

"I cannot help but--"

"Go to bed. I promise I'll be ready to go in the morning," Zuko tried, and Iroh's expression sagged as he turned around and slipped through the metal door in the center of the deck to go to his room. Zuko turned around completely, his entire ship in his view, and stared at the contraption as his uncle disappeared. His ears, attuned to the nuances of a life first with Azula and then at sea, winced as it closed. The sound felt like one of finality, and with a sigh he would deny he faced the ocean once again. 

The vastness of the water felt somewhat welcoming to him; he was a child of fire, of course, but he was also a child of Ursa, and of the Blue Spirit mask—a mask of a water spirit, even one of fantasy, spoke to him. Its depths, tumultuous and transcendent, were still understandable. If he were to fall into the ocean, he would drown; it was that simple. 

Zuko's hands moved down of their own volition, and before he quite knew why they were at his wrist, tugging at a loose leather band. He raised the hand to the ocean to no avail—his vision, ordinarily not quite ideal, his scar stinging, couldn't comprehend the shapes or colors of the piece of jewelry. He would deny it but he could picture it in his mind vividly; the smoothness of the fabric, worn with age, and the water symbol inscribed into a pendant. All of its characteristics were sealed into shades of blue that contrasted his skin and armor.

His night-visions drew brown skin at the end of that consciousness, and his mind wandered until he started to drift in some sort of in-between. He was no Zuko, staring at the unforgiving night sky. He saw a young girl in a water village, a girl bending rivulets of water at him, trying to break him down.

Zuko knew that the Avatar was accompanied by two water tribe peasants. In fact, they had likely found the child, and he detested the fact. He had thought about the two tangentially, if not incredibly maliciously. They were collateral, but his priority was the Avatar.

The Avatar, after all, is all he has ever wanted. 

His fingers, roughed with the grips of his blades, ran across the smooth pendant again. He didn't know the water girl's name, nor that of her companion, who could likely be her betrothed. Yet something called him to this piece of jewelry, and something drew him to the image of her. 

He didn't know why his mind placed her in front of him so well. He started back, feet slamming against the metal deck, when he realized that his eyes, manifested in reality, were closed. When he opened them he expected to be greeted with nothing but that same cosmic vastness; instead, he saw her.

Zuko's instinct was to reach forward and grab her, take her, but something supernatural and encompassing held him to his feet; it didn't force him but compelled him, and he suddenly lost the want to step forward. She was rendered extraordinary well, set up against such a dark background. No moon had appeared today, and she should not have been this visible against the black reflection of the sky on the sea—yet he could see her. 

He wished he knew her name. In this moment all he truly knew were her small pieces; the curve of her jawline, her bright eyes sparkling at him, her braid thrown over her shoulder. Other words ran through his mind. 

_ Beautiful, _ he was called to, and that drew him out of this. His eyes dropped to her bare throat before he shook his head as if to shake water out of his ears. When he righted himself he was still gazing forward, but the girl had disappeared. 

(If he had tried hard enough, he might have been able to see her silhouette on the horizon, almost rising. He had lost hours. But he did not want to try, nor acknowledge that he had seen something out of his understanding; Zuko liked known quantities, easy tasks, actions of hands and not hearts.)

His hand clutched the necklace, and he reached down and crumbled it between his fists. Then he stared out at the ocean one last time.

It did not seem so terrible, anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in past-tense in about five years, but my NaNoWriMo project (fic) will be written in it, so I'm trying get some last-minute practice in! Let me know if you see any errors/awkwardness, it's a bit of a drastic change for me :)  
> Thank you for reading!


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